


Feline Tendencies

by bluefallenfandomwallflowers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Cat Behaviors, Cat Dean Winchester, Crack, Dean Loves Cas, Dean doesn't give a fuck, Dean pounces alot?, Forward Dean, Human Castiel, Licking, M/M, Magic, Possessive Dean Winchester, Purring, Rimming, Sam Winchester Laughs, Sam is like wtf, Spells & Enchantments, Surprised Castiel, hysterically, i think, idfk, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 11:09:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefallenfandomwallflowers/pseuds/bluefallenfandomwallflowers
Summary: Let’s just say Dean is acting a little unusual...And it just might involve purring.





	Feline Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> Now THIS is some borderline cracky shit.
> 
> I thought my last fic was out there (?) but this may take the pie XD
> 
> Let me know your thoughts, friends.
> 
> Enjoy

It starts simple as most things do.

There’s a small town with a few unruly incidents that the sheriff’s department ruled out as freaky and coincidental, and Sam Winchester takes a gander that something is up and _of course_ ends up being completely right.

Dean’s minding his own business, sighing in relief at a dead witch who now has a bullet lodged in his forehead, when a black cat streaks across the room. It brushes past his leg, purring, and when Dean goes to swipe it away, the fucking idiot scratches him.

“Fuckin’ dick!” Dean grips his hand, peering at it with grit teeth. There are three identical scratches horizontal to his knuckles, all of them tinged red. It makes his entire hand throb. Annoyed, he wipes the blood off on his jeans and after shooting the slinking cat a menacing look, continues discarding of the witch.

-

Cas smiles at him in a way he doesn’t deserve when they get back.

“Good trip?” He tears off a piece of his blueberry muffin, and somehow even just chewing is adorable as his eyes lock sweetly onto Dean's own.

“Oh yeah, it was goddamn blast.” Dean shoots him a vague smile and throws his bag on the ground before starting to slide open drawers. “Sam, where’d you put the first aid kit?”

“Drawer by the fridge!'

Dean growls. “Not there.”

Sam pops his head into the doorway of the kitchen. “Dude, the other one.”

Bingo. Dean scratches his forehead while he searches through the assortment of antibiotic creams and bandages. He’s hoping the little bastard didn’t give him rabies.

“What happened?” Cas asks, tone immediately darkening.

“A cat scratched me.” Dean settles across from Cas at the table and studies the cuts, becoming angrier the more he thinks about it.

“Let me see.” Cas grabs Dean’s hand, wrinkles appearing in his forehead as he too examines the light wounds. “This cat was extremely perturbed.”

“Well, I mean, I did just gank his owner…” Dean tries to keep his heart steady as Cas’ fingers slide over his skin. “I’d be pissed too.”

“That explains it.” Cas gazes up at him. “Are you experiencing any allergic reaction?”

“Surprisingly, no. I’m expecting it though.”

Dean’s shoulders go lax as Cas begins to fix him up, gently spreading antibiotic cream over his cuts. He hisses, but after Castiel lets his hand slide beneath Dean’s palm, fingers latching over his wrist, he just sits and stares. When it comes to simple, yet ordinate tasks, Cas’s ministrations become careful, delicate.

He sticks a large bandage over the cuts before wrapping it up in a baby blue colored gauze.

Then he just sits there, basically holding Dean’s hand, looking cool and collected while Dean starts to sweat.

“There,” Cas finally says in a delayed response, fingertips straying over his work before pulling away.

“Thanks.” Dean sounds breathless. He clears his throat and as he stands, heading towards the coffee machine, he tries to clap Cas on the back but ends up giving him a passionate three second shoulder rub.

So much for subtle.

-

Speaking of subtle, the real trouble starts that way.

The next morning, Dean is at the fridge, drowning himself in milk.

It’s supposed to be for the eggs he was planning to make, the after-hunt-special pancakes, the cheat in Sam’s coffee because he’s just joking himself if he thinks that’ll be a healthy substitute for creamer.

But no, Dean is here in boxers and a t-shirt, gulping down half a gallon of whole milk without a breath in between.

Once the carton is empty, Dean stands there, frowning at himself, wondering just what in the hell is wrong with him.

“Warm milk equals beauty sleep, Sammy,” Dean says in explanation when Sam complains while staring down at his dry bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.

-

Dean is woken up by Cas shaking his shoulder violently.

“Dude, I’m trying to sleep,” Dean protests poorly, batting Cas’ hand away.

“On… the ground?”

Oh. Dean opens his eyes, and yep, he’s in front of the bed, curled up in a ball.

“I guess I’m just super tired.” Dean rubs his eyes.

“It’s the middle of the day, Dean.”

Huh.

Cas ushers him into his actual bed, and Dean strangely doesn’t feel the fight he’d normally start rise in his chest. Rather, he won’t let go of Cas, keeping a smile plastered to his face, and he says, “Nap with me.”

“Dean…” Cas keeps his feet planted, confusion in his voice.

“Please.”

That does it, because it always does, and while Dean quickly falls asleep, body rounded, Castiel stays on his side, peering at Dean with a sort of bewildered wonder.

When he wakes a couple hours later, Cas is gone.

-

Sam is balanced on a ladder, searching for a book in the library the next day.

He accidentally knocks a piece of paper off the bookshelf and Dean’s eyes latch onto it as it floats back and forth towards the ground.

Crooked fingers and eyebrows scrunched in laser focus, Dean pounces, swiping at the paper, ultimately knocking into the ladder.

He sits on the ground, ripping at the piece of paper, while Sam shouts and falls off the ladder and starts cursing him.

“What the hell, Dean?”

“You dropped this,” Dean murmurs.

Rip, rip.

Sam stares at him.

“Weirdo.” 

-

Castiel asks for his help in finding some sort of magical object that may be of use in one of the many storage rooms.

He tells Dean about a possible case, animated at having found it all by himself, and Dean grins, proud.

But then Cas is stretching his arms high, on the balls of his feet, and tan skin reveals itself as his shirt rises and Dean’s mouth is watering.

It takes everything inside of him to look away, lower towards the ground, and begin clattering around the lowest shelf.

“Found anything?”

“Not yet,” Cas says.

Dean gazes up and whoa, Cas has stubble. And Cas has a firm stomach and _holy shit_ that’s a tattoo.

“W-what’s that?”

Cas peers down at him before following his eyesight, thin fingers pulling his shirt up farther and Dean could mewl.

“Oh, this wards me from the angels. I got it when I first became human. D-do you like it?”

Suddenly, Cas is looking for approval.

And hey, who is Dean to deny him?

He rises up fully on his knees until his eyes meet the tattoo head on. Then, almost involuntarily, Dean curves his hands around Cas’ legs and pulls his body forward. It’s humorous, how surprised Cas looks, and Dean grins, humming, pressing his lips against Cas’ skin.

“Oh!” Cas’ surprise becomes audible, and his hand come down in Dean’s hair. “D-Dean?”

Cas’ skin is salty, tan. This is _his_ body now, and Dean couldn’t be happier.

Something vibrates in his chest.

Then he’s sinking his teeth into skin just below the tattoo.

“Dean!” Cas jerks, but he doesn’t pull away, almost holding on for dear life. He grapples for Dean’s shoulders. “W-what are you doing?”

“I like it, Cas,” Dean finally answers, drawing back.

The bite wasn’t anything really, didn’t even draw blood. All that’s left is the indentation of Dean’s teeth and even now it’s fading, leaving only faint red marks in its wake.

“You do?” Cas stares at him, blue eyes darker. He’s breathing hard. 

“Yeah.”

Dean stays there for a few moments, just staring up at Castiel, watching him. Cas has always been his biggest competition when it comes to impromptu staring contests, but right now he just looks nervous, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

His hand is still in Dean’s hair.

“We should go and get you the anti-possession symbol, especially before we head off on any cases,” Dean says, pulling away, grinning, mind already on the subject of where this tattoo should go.

“Okay?” Cas seems confused.

Dean starts digging through the second shelf, whistling.

Right now would be a great time for a nap.

-

He’s at a gas station, searching for pie and milk, when some guy comes in with a humongous German Shepherd.

The clerk and the man greet each other, friendly, but Dean’s back hits the freezer door behind him, eyes locked on the dog.

The dog stares right back.

When Dean starts to edge away, the dog begins to bark, and every hair on his body raises.

“Shut up, boy!” The man hollers, but it’s too late.

Dean is out the door, unpaid for gallon of milk in hand, zipping to the Impala and speeding all the way home.

-

It’s when he starts to prefer his tongue that things get interesting.

The cuts aren’t healing on the back of his hand, and Dean proceeds to carefully unwrap the gauze that night before licking at them, sucking his hand till he’s almost sick of it. But it feels so right, and afterward, he feels like a nice glass of milk would suffice his efforts.

-

Dean suggests a movie to Cas, and the entire time, he’s itching for contact.

When Cas’ arm bumps into his while handing over the bowl of popcorn, Dean practically melts, eyes falling shut.

But he needs more.

Any excuse to touch Castiel is Dean’s M.O. and he’s damn well going to succeed.

They pass the bowl back and forth, arms brushing at every move, until Castiel frowns at him and wraps his arms around it. “I will hold it,” Cas states, only the slight tilt of his lips giving him away.

Dean has to get creative now, leaning in much too close and digging his hand deeper and deeper through butter and kernels. The bottom of the bowl must be rubbing right across Cas’ junk, but the guy seems completely unaware, eyes focused on the screen.

Dean eventually just smashes their sides together and keeps his hand rested on the lip of the bowl, back of his hand just flopped on Cas’ chest, and maybe that’s when Cas starts to notice something because he’s giving Dean a weird look.

“Dean?”

“Mm hmm?” Dean draws it out, almost smirking at the screen.

“Your scratches... They’re not healing?”

That ruins the mood just a tad. Dean rolls his head till his cheek is resting on the back of the couch, eyes gazing at Cas with everything his body is itching to do, his hands, his _mouth_.

“Nope.”

Cas finally turns his full attention to Dean, setting the bowl on the floor. He has that super concerned look going on that he reserves for the worst times. “Dean, that’s not good. They are probably infected.”

“So?”

Dean walks his fingertips up the center of Cas’ chest all the while moving centimeters closer to him. He hums, smoothing over Cas’ collar bone before flicking some stray popcorn aside and, unable to resist any longer, surges forward to nuzzle Cas’ neck.

Cas’ body goes still and he seems to be holding his breath, his pulse pounding against Dean’s lips.

“P _er_ fect,” Dean murmurs, one hand clamping down onto the other side of Cas’ face as he breathes into his neck. 

“D-Dean, what--” Cas is finally with the program, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands as they grip Dean’s shirt and remain motionless there.

The strangest sound rises from Dean’s throat, almost possessive, but content, and he’s sliding one leg over Cas’ body to sit in his lap.

“Wait, Dean, you don’t—this isn’t--”

“Believe me, Cas, I _want_ this, I swear, mkay? Just lemme…” Dean can’t get close enough, just thinking _more, more, more_ and once his tongue pokes out, Cas is finally letting out noises of his own, moaning unbiddenly.

“There ya go, sweetheart, mmhmm,” Dean talks, rolling his hips once, twice, letting their clothed cocks press together.

His own erection is at full mast, but he’s practically drooling when he feels Cas’ stir, leap, and yeah, Dean is fucking keeling at the beautiful sounds of reciprocation.

That’s when he just licks and licks, his tongue a thick stripe across the length of Cas’ fucking gorgeous neck, past the angle of his chin and over his cheek.

And that’s when Cas is freezing up again, but Dean only half registers it as he laps at Castiel’s neck, back arching.

“Come on baby, don’t be shy.” Dean laughs, but it’s cut short when Castiel flips them suddenly, and Dean makes a _whoof_ sound as he lands flat on his back, horizontal on the couch.

He’s still smiling, thinking that they’re finally getting down to business, but it quickly fades at Castiel’s wide-eyed expression, his retreating figure. He places the armrest between them, breathing heavily.

“We need to talk to Sam,” Castiel says, and wow, what a way to end the party.

“The fuck?” Dean bursts out laughing. “Cas, I was hopin’ this would just be between you and me.”

“Stay here, Dean. Please.” Castiel turns on his heel and walks away and Dean would be concerned, but he’s distracted by his own hand.

He sucks on it, and the blood in his mouth is sweet and pure, and he purrs around it.

_Perfect_.

-

Sam and Castiel find him nudging a piece of popcorn over the couch cushions with his nose.

“Holy shit.” Sam has tears in his eyes and he has to turn away while Dean scowls.

“What? What is it? Cas, did you tell him about _you know what?_ ” Dean makes wild gestures with his hand, but Castiel shakes his head. 

“Dean, this isn’t about… that. Necessarily.”

He’s already busy staring at the television, tongue swirling over the back of his hand.

“I, uh, see what you mean,” Sam says.

“This is a very big problem.” Castiel comes to sit next to Dean, and immediately he presses against Cas’ side, head nuzzling his arm, eyes glued to the screen.

“I…” Sam makes a strangled noise. “Okay, uh, fuck. This is weird. Okay, I’m going to go find out what this is. Are you okay taking care of him?”

“I suppose so,” Cas says as Dean curls up on his lap and immediately conks out. He rests his hand in Dean’s hair and when he moves his fingers, Dean purrs.

Sam squeaks. “Great. Cool. I’ll let you know when I have something.”

Sam’s laughter echoes down the hallway.

-

Every time Dean attempts to start something up, Castiel pushes him away.

He always comes back, shy, simply pressing his head into Cas’ body, but as time wears on, he gets that feeling of wanting to jump Cas’ bones and lick every inch of his skin.

So Cas leads him to the library, where Sam is frantically flipping through a book before groaning and moving on to another.

“We have to stay in here,” Cas says.

“Why?”

“Dean won’t stop, um…”

One of Sam’s eyebrows rises before falling. “Ah. Uh, okay. You can help me look for what this might be.”

But something about this spell strips Dean of common sense because one minute he’s on the floor, asleep, and the next, Cas is crying out as Dean jumps into his lap and starts sucking on his neck.

“DEAN!” Sam takes a literal rolled up newspaper and begins to smack him in the head.

Now, Dean is locked away in his room, crying for them to let him out, and Cas is rubbing his neck, hissing.

“Okay, so the witch clearly enchanted the cat or something,” Sam ventures, eyebrows screwed. “When it scratched Dean, it somehow transferred some magic through his blood. The thing I don’t get is why it’s making him act this way.”

“Perhaps…” Castiel's lips screw up. “The witch used magic to transform a human into a cat?”

Sam perks up. “Wait. That makes sense. The spell could have been placed upon the cat, or maybe the witch had just cast the spell before Dean got there? And somehow that spell is working on Dean, but in a different way?”

“We can’t know for sure, Sam. But we have to do something.”

They both pause, listening to Dean’s cries echo down the hallway.

“Then we have work to do,” Sam says.

-

Dean fingertips are bleeding from his persistent scratching on his door. There are grooves within the wood now, but he’s not strong enough with blunt nails and wearing skin.

His voice is giving out and eventually, he just curls up, licking at his fingers.

When he wakes, Cas is there, shaking him gently.

“Dean?”

Dean immediately zeroes in on him, and Cas notices it a second too late. "Dean--" Dean leaps, latching onto Cas' front, and they tumble through the doorway and land in the hall, Dean covering Cas with his entire body.

“No, Dean, no! We-we are going to—”

Dean doesn’t let him finish, because he’s never been so happy to see his Castiel.

He growls deep in his throat when Cas attempts to get away by turning to place his hands on the floor, but Dean just pounces on him again until he’s flat on his chest.

“Dean,” Castiel says, voice low and demanding. “Get off of me.”

Dean shakes his head, staring at the slit of blue he can see from Cas’ turned head. He bends and places a kiss to the back of his neck, and Cas lets out a tiny sigh.

“Sam will be back soon with ingredients for a spell that we think may work,” Cas says.

But Dean doesn’t care.

He lavishes the back of Castiel’s neck, palms sliding down Cas’ arms and to his wrists, pulling them up and over his head. One of Dean’s legs slides between Cas’, and a shudder races down Cas’ spine. “D-Dean, we can’t do this.”

“Why?” Dean latches on to Cas’ earlobe.

“Because this isn’t you.”

He pauses, sitting up where he straddles Cas’ lower back. “I’m me, though.”

“Not-not completely.”

“But it _is_ , Cas. You don’t understand. I can’t help what I’m doing. But it feels right. I’m not opposed to you guys reversing this spell, but right now, all I want is _you_.”

Cas’ head twists and he gazes at Dean with a super sweet look that makes his back arch.

“Okay,” Cas whispers.

Dean’s mouth sidles into a heartful grin, and finally, _fucking finally_ Cas starts to let out all of his pent-up sounds and moans as Dean laps at his neck. He works his hands under Castiel’s body, finding the buttons on his shirt. His blood tinged fingers pop them all free.

“Should I turn over?” Cas asks, already beginning to.

“No,” Dean says, pulling his arms down and cutting him short.

Cas groans as Dean yanks his shirt down his arms, hissing when his chest touches the cold linoleum, and oh god, even his back is something to behold. Tan, tan skin, muscle, hard and strong.

Dean appreciates it as fully as possible with his eyes before moving on to other senses, preferably with his mouth. His tongue spirals over Cas’ shoulders, his shoulder blades, and then down each knob of his spine. When Dean starts to focus on the meatier part of his back leading over towards his front and sharp hipbones that could slice butter, Cas says, “Bite me,” breathlessly, latching his hands at the base of his spine.

Dean growls possessively and obliges, letting his teeth drag over taut flesh into raised muscle, and he bites down firmly, settling one hand at the center of Castiel’s back.

A deep moan, along with a gasp of pain, leaves Castiel quickly, and Dean lets his tongue cool over the marks he leaves.

Castiel lifts his hips suddenly, hands breaking apart and slipping under himself, and Dean’s cock sparks into full awareness when he realizes Cas is unbuttoning his jeans.

“ _Yes_ ,” Dean growls, because that is definitely going in the top ten category of the hottest things he has ever witnessed, digging his fingers into the beltloops of Cas’ jeans and yanking them down.

After he has delved Cas of them, biting at his calf, Dean moans at the sight of Castiel, with one leg bent, boxer briefs stretched tight across thick thighs, staring back at him in wait, blue eyes hungry but timid. And fuck, Cas has a _super nice ass, holy shit_. Dean is just looking and looking with no shame and when Cas says, “Dean?” he is moving as fast as lightning, whipping Cas on his back and kissing him deeply.

Cas is happily surprised, hips rising to meet Dean, and his hands come up to hold his face delicately.

They kiss and it’s so damn sloppy, it should be disgusting, and probably looks that way, but Dean can’t get enough and Castiel seems pleased. Their tongues move together, exploring each other, and something races through Dean that causes him to grip Cas’ hips and a yank them even closer to one another.

Cas breathes in sharply, throwing his head back, Dean’s erection through his jeans a tight pressure against the thin fabric covering his own. There’s a large wet spot on his briefs that makes Dean salivate, purring deep in his throat, and before Cas can say anything, he’s yanking his underwear down and bending down to lick Cas’ cock.

“ _Fuck_ , oh my god, Dean,” Cas practically screeches, hands clamping down into Dean’s hair.

Dean sets his mind to making Castiel feel everything he’s been missing out on, fingers tight on his hips while he moves up and down rapidly, spit smearing over his lips, Cas’ cock rock hard, slick from his mouth. Cas is a mess, panting, seemingly not sure what to do, letting out noises with no sense of holding them back.

“Dean, Dean, _Dean_ ,” he moans, and Dean pops off before the finale.

“ _Why_?” Cas whines, slapping his hand to the ground and curling his fingers, staring at Dean like he’s a wild man.

Dean doesn’t offer explanation vocally, rather manhandling Cas onto his chest again, bending his legs so his ass is in the air, and Dean actually laughs as he spreads Cas’ cheeks and dives right in.

“DEAN,” Cas yells, spasming, but Dean pushes on, licking his hole thoroughly and to the absolute best of his ability.

Cas cries out as his tongue starts to slip past his puckered flesh and inside of him.

Dean wants all him. He wants to taste every part of Cas, have every inch of him. If Castiel wasn’t in to this, Dean wonders how far he would have gone from the unbidden lust and desire to have him.

But that doesn’t seem to be a problem, thankfully.

Cas is moaning, ass moving back onto Dean’s thrusting tongue, and when he reaches around and clamps his hand down on Cas’ cock, he is happily surprised when Castiel cries out and comes.

Dean lets his tongue continue its pace until Castiel’s legs are quaking, and he tapers off, simply circling Cas’ hole while he comes down from the high, breathing heavily, head drooped between his shoulders. He pulls back and bites ever so gently on Cas’ right cheek and Cas lets out another gasp before sliding flat onto the floor.

Dean climbs right on top of him immediately, settling over his back, purring throughout his entire body. He laps Cas’ come from his hand while Cas squirms beneath him.

“Dean,” Cas says, wheezing. “You’re so heavy.”

“I love you too,” Dean sighs before curling up and drifting off to sleep.

-

“Okay, we’re ready.”

Dean blinks, smiling in content. Above him is Sam, peering down at him. “Is it milk time?” Dean asks, yawning.

“Not quite.”

Dean looks around, blinking.

He’s in the library now, and Cas is behind Sam, cheeks still aglow. From Sam’s facial expressions, Dean can tell he doesn’t know what occurred earlier between them or else he’d be blubbering like an idiot.

“We have the spell ready,” Sam explains, helping Dean stand, although he’d prefer being on the floor.

“Okay. Sweet. Do I just…?” Dean points to a chair sitting in the middle of the empty space.

“Yeah. And don’t move or jump Cas or anything unless...” Sam gestures with his head towards the rolled up newspaper sitting hauntingly on the table.

“Fine.” Dean takes a seat and immediately sticks his hand in his mouth, sucking on the scratches that still haven’t healed.

“Stop that,” Castiel says smacking his hand away.

Dean just brings it back to his mouth and the cycle continues until Sam begs them to stop.

Cas glares as Dean grins slyly, licking at his hand.

“Okay, we need some of his blood,” Sam says, pulling out a knife.

Dean hisses and tries to move away, but Cas settles his hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay, Dean. This is necessary to the spell.”

Sam looks apologetic as he slices Dean’s arm, letting blood drip into a vial.

While Sam studies the spell, Cas pets Dean’s hair, lips at his temple.

“I apologize for earlier,” he whispers.

“Cas, I swear, I didn’t do that just because I’m like this--”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Cas tilts his head back and Dean purrs when he kisses him lightly. “I mean, I believe I owe you.”

Dean is about to protest, until it clicks. “Oh.” He smiles. “Guess I’ll have to cash that in soon.”

Castiel’s eyes go soft.

“Okay, ready?” Sam looks back and forth between them, updating himself on the obvious change, but overall, unsurprised.

“I believe so,” Cas says.

Sam lets Cas hold the bowl, standing in front of Dean, looking determined.

“I hope this works.”

“Oh god,” Dean groans, rolling his eyes.

Sam starts reciting some foreign language, and as he speaks, the bowl glows a deep purple. As it becomes brighter, Sam dips two fingers into the goop and spreads it over the scratches on Dean’s hand.

It burns a bit, but all Dean wants to do is lick it clean.

And then the desire to do so just—

Stops.

The room goes white for a second, and then everything is still.

Sam and Cas stand in front of him, waiting.

Dean shakes out his head, and he groans, holding up his hands to peer at his damaged fingers. “Fuck, this hurts.”

“He’s back!” Sam grins and pulls Dean into a bear hug, thumping his back twice.

Dean laughs but suddenly he’s coughing like hell.

“Dean?”

He holds out his hand and within his palm lands a hairball.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Sam laughs hysterically while Cas tries to keep a straight face.

“You guys suck!”

-

“You still feel the same?”

“Damnit, Cas, _yes_. I love you.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” Cas moves against him, letting out a breathy gasp. Dean's fingers clench around Cas' thighs.

“I love you too by the way.”

“Good.”

“Purrfect.”

“ _Cas_.”


End file.
